I guess a lot of people experience what I do at the moment. Living in a so called human farm, a house populated by emigrants, who are not in particular friends and barely even speak to each other, the reason being not fluent in English or just a decision not to interact even when necessary. We are 10 in a 5 bedroom house. I mainly sit in my room, feeling like I am in an aquarium as my room overlook the garden and has a glass door. Looking at my Romanian housemates who just laid a blanket on the grass and started playing cards. Their funny way to create a shade makes me smile. Some memories of long gone summers on the Black Sea shore come back as wavy memories - the peaches in the sand, the families playing cards and board games on the beach, my crazy attempts to dig a tunnel and hide in it...You see..in a way you can never be fully locked, you can always sit on the grass and imagine a sand instead, no one can intervene in any way, there are boundless territories and yet you can never fully hide. The tunnel has two ends. Me and those ten people are like seeds from ancient tribes, desperately covering our own little piece of land, trying to hide from each other and still staring and struggling to understand what the other is doing, saying or thinking. We share the deepest of fears, not knowing each other, how are we going to protect ourselves from the invisible evil God of misfortune. We manically clean the door handles, the sink and everything we are sharing because we have no other choice but being together and keeping each other alive. Silently. Struggling to keep that clumsy dance of mimics and gestures.

As we make our supper in respectable silence my Romanian housemate is showing me a tiny red capsule. We can share?, she says, politely reminding me we are both celebrating Easter next week and I might want to color some eggs. And I am humble and thankful for whatever they would like to share. There is sudden pump of oxygen in my tiny aquarium. I have a sudden vision of a desert mountains and oceans between four glass walls and hundreds of traces, long forgotten paths, leading to this day and time